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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427166">Redemption (Times Three)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MightyAmphitrite/pseuds/MightyAmphitrite'>MightyAmphitrite</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Old Guard (Movie 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris | Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris, Circus, Fix-It, Forgiveness, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, M/M, Paris (City), Regret, finding a kitten, running away to join the circus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:21:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,931</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26427166</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MightyAmphitrite/pseuds/MightyAmphitrite</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After his exile, Booker returns to Paris, longing for the familiar as he faces an uncertain future.</p>
<p>Three ways he finds his way back to his friends while finding himself.</p>
<p>Featuring secret pen pals, the healing power of kittens, and the timeless allure of joining the circus.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andy | Andromache &amp; Booker | Sebastien le Livre &amp; Joe | Yusuf al-Kaysani &amp; Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, Booker | Sebastien le Livre &amp; Nile Freeman, Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>147</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. He went to Paris, looking for answers...</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I really feel for Booker, guys: I would totally be the lonely ball of angst in a group like this. After watching the movie I tried to come up with a happy ending for him, then other (less likely) ideas came to mind, and I had a ball writing several ways he could find his way back to the team. So here's part one, what I consider to be the most realistic.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>First, he went to Paris.</p>
<p>Andy gave him a bug-out bag with his passports and documents, stuffed with enough money and energy bars to get him wherever he wanted to go. It was a generous gesture, since they both knew he wasn’t going far.</p>
<p>Booker strolled down the Champs-Élysées, allowing the crowds of noisy tourists to swallow him, make him vanish. He was surprised to see that a café he’d visited maybe twenty years before was still in business, and he stopped in to get a croissant and plan his next move. <em>There’s no urgency, of course, </em>he thought bitterly, the flaky pastry crumbling as he pulled it apart and put a piece in his mouth.</p>
<p>
  <em>I have all the time in the world.</em>
</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Nile was the first to reach out.</p>
<p>He returned to the safe house he had claimed as his own to find a box on the stoop of the vacant building next door. Inside was a huge bag of fine German marzipan, and instead of a note, there was a postcard with a pyramid that cheerily proclaimed, “Greetings from Cairo!”</p>
<p><em>She must have found the master list, </em>he thought, ashamed to feel tears welling up in his eyes as he held the bag up for a closer look. Andy kept a list of their safe spaces in a little notebook away from prying eyes, but he was sure that nothing could stand between Nile and the truth. He sighed, reading the ingredient list over and over to calm himself down.</p>
<p>
  <em>Smart girl.</em>
</p>
<p>Every week or so, or as often as they changed locations, he assumed, she would send another package. Cookies from Australia, oranges from Morocco, pickled fish from Sweden. He wasn’t sure if it was reassuring that she didn’t consider him a lost cause, or depressing to think of the group moving on with their eternal lives without him.</p>
<p><em>Here lies Booker, </em>he thought grimly as he lay sprawled across the threadbare couch, munching on a Tim-Tam. <em>Gone, but not forgotten.</em></p>
<p>He wandered the streets of Paris, the bustling and the abandoned, day and night, some days certain that the moment he stopped moving he might not start again, hoping to outrun his despair, but it always caught up with him when he tried to sleep. His evenings not spent wandering the city were plagued with nightmares, flashes of long-ago battles and agonizing glimpses of Andy and the others on their latest missions.</p>
<p>So he walked, and ate his treats, and when he woke up each new day, he wondered why.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>As hard as he tried to avoid it, his feet eventually took him to the heart of the city, which had almost stopped beating the year before.</p>
<p>Notre Dame de Paris had scaffolding over its central section and a temporary roof, looking battered and bruised like she had barely escaped the fight of her life. He stood amongst the gawkers, unable to look away, and after that first day he found himself walking over more and more often.</p>
<p>“I still can’t believe it,” an American tourist said softly as Booker stood nearby, sipping coffee from his travel mug. He silently agreed. It seemed like only yesterday Napoleon himself had come here for his coronation. Booker himself hadn’t been invited to the ceremony, of course, but he remembered the excitement of the day.</p>
<p>“They’re fixing it up to get ready for the Olympics,” someone else said. “And they got lot of donations. It should be done in a couple of years.”</p>
<p>“It’s hard to come back after that much damage,” said another member of their group, looking skeptical. “And this building is ancient; it was probably super fragile to begin with. You don’t just slap on a new roof and call it a day.”</p>
<p>“And it’ll never be the same,” an older woman said, staring up at the scaffolding with sad eyes.</p>
<p>“Things change,” said the first guy firmly. “In one form or another, Notre Dame will always be here. The people of Paris will never give up on her.”</p>
<p>Blinking images of crowns and battlefields from his eyes, Booker finished his coffee and walked on.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>The next to reach out was Nicky.</p>
<p>Booker recognized the handwriting immediately, and didn’t open the box for hours, the guilt eating away at his heart. When he finally opened the box with shaking fingers, he saw a framed picture of a familiar rocky coastline. They had spent a quiet summer in Scotland about fifty years ago, and he remembered telling the others that he would happily spend the rest of his days there, wandering up and down the coast listening to the wind and the waves, savoring the stillness. Nicky had laughed, saying, <em>I’m glad this place brings you peace. </em>He sat staring at the picture until the room darkened with the setting sun, and put it on his bedside table before laying down for another restless night.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Time marched on.</p>
<p>He met a nice waitress at the café and went on a few dates that didn’t lead anywhere, but brought a spark of joy to his heart.</p>
<p>He watched the work crews slowly put the most famous cathedral in the world back together.</p>
<p>He walked, and wondered, and watched the world go by.</p>
<p>Six months in, he got a postcard from Andy.</p>
<p>On the front was a black and white image of the Coliseum in Rome, and on the back was a poem about the joys of solitude. At least, that’s what he <em>thought </em>it was about: his Latin could use some work.</p>
<p>Her next postcard, from Venice, was either about walking through fields of wildflowers or juggling hammers.</p>
<p>He picked up a copy of ‘Latin for Simpletons’ at a local shop so he’d be ready for the next one.</p>
<p>A few weeks later, after feeling the pull of his former friends reaching out to him from around the world, he set aside his guilt and his doubt and reached back.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>He could feel their presence before he saw them.</p>
<p>Booker stood in his usual spot, watching a crane haul materials up and down in the bright sunshine. He kept his eyes up as he sensed them moving closer.</p>
<p>“Such a shame.”</p>
<p>He turned, finally, and saw Joe frowning back at him.</p>
<p>“It’s been here for generations, and in one day it’s gone.”</p>
<p>“Not gone,” Nile said, adjusting her ‘Paris, je t’aime’ baseball cap. “Just a little beat up. Nothing a little TLC and millions of euros can’t fix.”</p>
<p>Andy was watching him closely. Booker resisted the urge to run and hide. Instead, he said softly, “Things fall apart so quickly… and take so long to rebuild. It’s… hard. And we have to decide if it’s worth it.”</p>
<p>“Do you think you have a life worth living?” Andy asked. Booker took a deep breath and let it out slowly.</p>
<p>“I… yes. I do. It hurts, every day, but it’s mine. And I would rather not live it alone. But…” he hesitated, looking between their unreadable faces. “But you’re not obligated to share my eternity with me.”</p>
<p>“How about just lunch, to start?” Nicky asked. Joe rolled his eyes, but Nile sent a grin his way. Andy was clearly smiling on the inside, if you knew where to look.</p>
<p>Blinking back tears, Booker nodded, breathed in, breathed out.</p>
<p>“I know a café I think you’ll love.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Castle on a Cloud</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>While looking for a distraction, a reason to get up every day, Booker finds a classic to reread and makes a new friend.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Once he reached the Paris safe house, Booker threw down his bag and took a look around. It was dusty and still, with a stray sock under a chair and a jacket he recognized as Joe’s draped over the back of the sofa. After a final glance, he walked right out again.</p>
<p>He needed some sort of goal, something to focus on until… well. He wandered the teeming streets until he came across a used book store and found his first distraction. It had been awhile since he’d read anything by Victor Hugo, and when he spotted a battered unabridged copy of Les Misérables, he knew he’d found a good way to pass the time.</p>
<p>He went out every day, to read and drink coffee and be somewhere other than the sad empty safe house. One afternoon, after spending and hour reading in his favorite café, he tucked the book under his arm and headed out, intending to walk a while and kill time before dinner. He cut through an alley lost in thought, imagining the denizens of long ago Paris, when a sharp cry jolted him back to the present.</p>
<p>“C’est un <em>rat!</em>” A young woman who’d been emptying a trash bin shuddered and ran back inside.</p>
<p>Moving closer to the dumpster and kneeling down, Booker saw that it wasn’t a rat she’d seen, but a filthy, trembling kitten. When it cowered away from his outstretched hand, gray eyes wide and frightened, he felt a crack form in his icy heart.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, <em>chaton,</em>” he said softly, scooping it up and holding it carefully so as not to drop his book.</p>
<p>“You’re not alone anymore.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Now, along with savoring the pinnacle of French literature, Booker had something new to focus on.</p>
<p>Step one, of course, was a bath in the safe house sink, revealing soft fur as gray as her eyes. Getting her spayed by a vet who didn’t ask questions, buying food and extra blankets, deciding on a name…</p>
<p>She was so small and sad, and yet lovely and fierce at the same time.</p>
<p>“Alright, Cosette,” he said finally. “Now we’re in this together.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>He quickly learned that his sweet Cosette hated being left alone, and would screech and wail the moment he closed the door. The second time he came back to find her shredding everything in sight, he sighed and dragged her off the remains of his coziest sweater.</p>
<p>“Let’s try something else.”</p>
<p>Booker tried putting her in his satchel with his copy of Les Mis, but was afraid the hefty book might crush her. She also kept sticking her head out to look around, which would certainly limit the places he’d be able to go and read. He finally got creative, taking a panel from a clawed-up shirt and sewing it onto the lining of his jacket, creating a pocket for her to ride in. When he tested it out, Cosette seemed happy enough to stay put, as long as Booker was wearing the jacket at the time and keeping her close.</p>
<p>He smiled down at her. “There, are you happy? Now you don’t have to stay behind.”</p>
<p>She just stared up at him with those wide, luminous eyes, purring when he stroked her velvety ears.</p>
<p>“Now our adventures can begin.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>That’s how Booker became That Guy, the quiet guy in the hand-me-down clothes hefting his massive paperback everywhere he went with a jacket that sometimes purred.</p>
<p>They’d go to his favorite café, maybe browse through a bookstore or pick up a gently used sweater to replace what had been shredded, and if the weather was nice, spend hours reading at the park.</p>
<p>“Cosette was in dire straits just like you,” he’d say, reaching into the pocket to pet her. “But when Jean Valjean discovered her circumstances, he pulled her from a life of neglect and gave her a fresh start, just as the Bishop did for him many years before.” Cosette meowed softly, nuzzling his hand.</p>
<p>Or, “That Javert is a strange fellow. So dedicated to his job, to justice, but so set against any sort of second chances.” He’d fall silent, watching people pass by as he brooded, until Cosette nudged him with her head, meowing insistently when his hand stopped moving. “It’s not impossible to start again,” he’d sigh. “But not everyone makes it easy.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>Seeing Andy on the street was a shock to the system.</p>
<p>He’d stepped out early to get groceries, leaving Cosette asleep on her pillow and watching as the city woke up around him. And who should stride up but Andy, a look of determination on her face that meant things were happening, and happening fast.</p>
<p>Before he could do more than gasp out her name, Andy had a strong hand around his bicep and was towing him down the sidewalk.</p>
<p>“It hasn’t even been a year, and I’m already back to save your sorry-“</p>
<p>She turned away from a group of college students taking selfies and pulled him into an alley. “The safe house has been compromised,” she said briskly, and he felt a swell of affection that she would bother to warn him, swiftly replaced by a wave of fear as her words sank in.</p>
<p>“The others are there making sure they don’t get their hands on any incriminating evidence. We’ll get the new place secure and rendez-vous-“</p>
<p>“Cosette!”</p>
<p>Andy blinked. “What?”</p>
<p>Booker shook his head. “I have to go back for her; I can’t just leave her there!”</p>
<p>“Leave who? The apartment was empty when they broke in, there’s no one-“</p>
<p>He was already running for the mouth of the alley. “She’s not a person, she’s a cat!”</p>
<p>“A <em>what</em>?”</p>
<hr/>
<p>The second Booker reached the apartment he was confronted by a giant mess and a surprised thug rifling through his things. After punching the man in the throat and wrestling him into submission, he ran into the bedroom, where he could hear signs of a struggle.</p>
<p>Nicky was tying up two more unconscious thugs while Nile carefully tugged a hissing Cosette, puffed up and furious, from where she’d sunk her claws into an intruder’s tac vest.</p>
<p>“When did you get a guard cat?” she asked as Booker ran in, practically throwing the kitten his way as she wriggled and squirmed. Booker held her close, heart torn in two by her pathetic cries, before remembering they had an audience. Nile and Andy were staring as if he’d just sprouted wings, and Nicky looked moments away from laughing his head off. Belatedly, Booker noticed that the thugs on the floor were covered in tiny scratches.</p>
<p>“You found him, then?” a gruff voice asked.</p>
<p>Booker spun to face Joe as he walked in from the kitchen. The mistrust in his eyes hurt just as much all these months later.</p>
<p>“I’m surprised you came,” Booker said lightly, watching as Joe’s frown deepened.</p>
<p>“There were documents here that could have compromised all of us,” Joe said brusquely, looking away. Nicky sent him a look, and after a moment Joe sighed, looking resigned. “But if we knew you had a bloodthirsty demon watching over the place, we wouldn’t have bothered.”</p>
<p>“He’s kind of cute when he’s not trying to claw your eyes out,” Nile said.</p>
<p>“She,” Booker said absently, stroking her back as her trembles subsided. “I found her. My Cosette.”</p>
<p>Joe snorted as Nicky stopped trying to hold back his laughter. “Your little orphan girl nearly took out two trained operatives-“</p>
<p>“They can’t have been <em>that </em>well trained if one <em>petit chaton</em>-“</p>
<p>“-crazed killing machine-“</p>
<p>“She must have been terrified-“</p>
<p>“Does she ride in here?”</p>
<p>To his embarrassment, Nicky was holding Booker’s DIY jacket with a gleeful smile on his face. When he nodded, Nicky asked, “May I?”</p>
<p>Booker sighed and nodded again. Nicky pulled on the jacket and Booker slowly slid her into the pocket, staying close in case she tried to jump out. Nicky grinned and cuddled her close. “She’s so sweet!” Cosette let out a muffled meow in response.</p>
<p>A stern sigh had them all turning. Joe stood with his arms crossed, chewing the inside of his cheek.</p>
<p>Finally, he asked, “If I try to pet her, will she take my arm off?”</p>
<p>Booker shrugged, fighting to hide his relieved smile. “Maybe a finger.”</p>
<p>While the others crowded around to meet Cosette, Andy raised an eyebrow his way. “Any other friends you need to gather up before we move out?”</p>
<p>His heart soared at the sound of those words, at being included in that <em>we</em>. He shook his head.</p>
<p>“Just let me get my book.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A friend and I were talking about tropes we enjoy, and she mentioned 'Character finding a kitten in an alley' and I immediately latched on to the idea for my Booker Redemption series. This one's for Beautiful Glider : )</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Life's a Circus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>On a whim, Booker joins a traveling circus passing through Paris, hoping for a fresh start. Life both in and out of the ring gets a lot more interesting, but not even running away to join the circus lets you escape your problems for long.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Those first few weeks were a blur of scotch and sorrow, of bitter wine and regret.</p>
<p>Booker's feet dragged him down familiar streets, his memories of Paris coming to life in flashes, sweet and painful. He didn't know where he was going, or what he was looking for, until he found it.</p>
<p>He was leaning against the wall of an alley outside his favorite café, willing himself to go inside for a cappuccino instead of heading back to his flat and drinking 'til he passed out. After a moment, he realized there was a ferocious lion roaring over his left shoulder.</p>
<p>He pushed off the wall and turned for a better look. A poster had been pasted onto the filthy brick, boldly proclaiming the arrival of <em>Le Cirque Fantastique</em> on Friday. He shrugged and started walking towards the café entrance. He could think of worse ways to spend a Friday night.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The show was a marvel: one of the old school, close knit circuses that you saw fewer of as time went on. Family teams performed death-defying stunts, clowns did magic tricks for the kids, and an old lion was indeed trotted out to jump through flaming hoops and roar to the crowd's delight. The red-bearded Ringmaster bid them farewell with a final twirl of his top hat and the crowd surged to their feet, cheering and chatting as they headed for the tent flap and back to real life. Booker stayed in his seat in the back as everyone else moved on, lost in memories of shows he'd seen many decades before, before realizing he was the only one left. An old man in sturdy work clothes had walked into the stands to gather up candy wrappers and popcorn boxes, nodding politely to Booker as he worked. Chewing his bottom lip, Booker hoisted his backpack onto his shoulder and headed out, circling back around to the second, smaller tent where the crew kept the equipment and cages. Since tents had no doors to knock on, Booker squared his shoulders and walked right in.</p>
<p>The dancers and acrobats were sharing a midnight snack of wine, cheese, and fruit, the younger ones probably off getting ready for bed. The clowns were playing cards on a rickety table, sweat-smudged faces looking up as he walked in. The Ringmaster sat with the acrobats, a glass of wine held loosely in his hand, his face unreadable as he watched Booker approach.</p>
<p>"Take me with you," Booker said, with a confidence he didn't feel.</p>
<p>The tent fell silent. The Ringmaster raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you a bit old to run away and join the circus?" he asked, and awkward laughter bubbled up around them. "I suppose you have an act in mind?"</p>
<p>Booker dropped his bag, took a deep breath, and did what he thought was a passable headstand. "Ta da?" he said, fighting to keep his legs straight.</p>
<p>The others erupted in laughter, the Ringmaster even slapping his knee as the clowns returned to their card game, shaking their heads. Booker dropped and stood up straight, the tent spinning around him for a moment as the Ringmaster approached him.</p>
<p>"I'm a hard worker," Booker said, "I can help with set up and take down, do the jobs no one else wants to do. I just... I need..." He rubbed the back of his neck, his words failing him, but the other man nodded, tugging thoughtfully on his beard.</p>
<p>"You need something different," he said finally, a knowing look in his eyes. When Booker nodded, he nodded back. “What’s your name?”</p>
<p>“Sebastien.”</p>
<p>The man nodded again. “I am Henri. Pull up a chair. Let's talk."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"You are a Godsend," Katerina told him as she and her husband Maks showed him where to stow his bag. "Guillaume hurt his leg setting up on Thursday, he really needs to rest. We could definitely use another pair of hands packing up the stands on Sunday, and all of the running around in between to keep the poor man off his feet." A tan, muscular man with one leg in a brace gave them a tired wave as they walked by. A train materialized before them in the darkness, garish colors long faded, and they led him to the final car.</p>
<p>“You’ll stay back here, with André,” Maks said, watching Booker closely, as if waiting for him to object.</p>
<p>Booker nodded. “Thank you.” He set his bag in a corner of the car between other crates and cargo.</p>
<p>“We have to get washed up and get some rest,” Katerina said, “but Old Georg would appreciate your help cleaning up in the tent. And he’ll get you some food, if you’re hungry.”</p>
<p>They parted ways, the pair heading toward the sleeping car and Booker returning to the main tent. The old man was still there; he turned and silently offered Booker a broom, raising his eyebrows. Booker took the hint and started sweeping scattered popcorn into a pile, the simple task pulling his mind from dark places for the first time in ages.</p>
<p>When Old Georg deemed the tent clean and ready for the next day’s show, he waved for Booker to follow and headed back outside, nodding to the people they passed and procuring a couple of ham sandwiches for the two of them. When they reached the train, he said in heavily accented French, “You stay in back with André.”</p>
<p>Booker nodded. “Yes, thank you,” he said, turning as another man approached them, his wild mane of blond hair matching that of the actual lion he led by a heavy chain.</p>
<p>“Good work, André!” the man said cheerfully, guiding the lion up the ramp into the train car, where he pulled back a tarp to reveal a brightly painted cage. “Time for bed.”</p>
<p>Old Georg held out a blanket, and Booker took it with a nod. “Until tomorrow, then.”</p>
<p>He walked up the ramp and got settled in an empty corner, using his jacket as a pillow, aware that both men were waiting for a reaction. After a moment more, Old Georg moved the ramp and slid the door shut, and the world became dark and quiet.</p>
<p>Booker sighed. “Good night, André,” he said softly, and waited for sleep to come.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was almost frightening how quickly Booker took to circus life.</p>
<p>The work was simple and mindless, lots of heavy lifting and cleaning up after the animals, which included two proud white horses the acrobats rode in the finale and a monkey that helped the clowns with their silly tricks.</p>
<p>The people were endlessly fascinating, with more drama going on after the lights went down than ever took place in the ring. Everyone had a past and a dream for the future. The performers were mainly from two different families who had a feuding storyline in the show and endless petty squabbles and flings behind the scenes.</p>
<p>Booker allowed himself to be pulled into their world, away from the violence and desolation of his own. Their world smelled of sweet hay and stale popcorn, with the feel of metal and wood in his hands and the sound of laughter and applause.</p>
<p>After he proved his mettle by taking on far more than his share of the work packing up in Paris, Henri the Ringmaster allowed him to come aboard for the rest of the tour, which would continue in Spain. Having passed the test, the others began to open up and let him into their lives, and Booker was all too happy to be pulled into their fascinating web.</p>
<p>After their first show in Madrid, he was joined by Ari, Katerina’s younger brother. The young gymnast watched as Booker and Old Georg tightened up some bolts where the stands were getting shaky, eager to discuss his favorite topic with anyone who would listen.</p>
<p>“…the way she points her toes between stunts, and that <em>smile,</em>” he sighed, gazing dreamily into space as Old Georg pulled out some sandpaper so they could smooth out some splinters. “When Elena’s in the ring, it’s like the whole world stops.”</p>
<p>“She’s quite the performer,” Booker agreed, scanning the corners for more rough edges. “Does she know you like her?”</p>
<p>Ari blushed. “I can barely speak to her. She just… <em>glows</em>. Like the <em>sun</em>.”</p>
<p>“Why don’t you ask her to take a walk with you, after a show?” Booker suggested, standing and stretching his aching back. “That’s usually a good start. Right Georg?”</p>
<p>Old Georg only grunted, eyes on his tools as he put everything back in his pockets.</p>
<p>Ari nodded, looking nervous but excited. “I’ll do it. I’ll do it! Thanks, Sebastien!”</p>
<p>Booker shrugged, grinning as the young man dashed off. “You only live once, right?”</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>The next time Booker spoke to Ari, he was leaning against the train like a puppet with its strings cut, gazing longingly at the tent where the others were celebrating another successful show. The aftershow had started when Elena the acrobat sidled up to Osmo the lion tamer, who snaked a hand around her waist with a wide smile. She laughed, he beamed, and Ari stalked out of the tent in a huff.</p>
<p>When he saw Booker had followed him out, Ari sighed. “I didn’t even get to ask her.”</p>
<p>Booker hesitated, then clapped a hand on his shoulder. “The world is full of pretty girls. You’ll find one to walk with someday.”</p>
<p>Ari turned to face him, eyes wide and disbelieving. “Prettier than <em>her</em>?”</p>
<p>Booker laughed. “Anything’s possible.”</p>
<hr/>
<p>It snuck up on him at night.</p>
<p>He could play stage hand all day, get lost in the trials and tribulations of the troupe and the cheers of the crowd, but in the dark, on the nights it all came flooding back, regret and despair took hold of his heart and squeezed until he couldn’t catch his breath.</p>
<p>Nightmares would jolt him awake, gasping in a tangle of blankets, blinking away visions of bloody battlefields and the betrayal on his former friends’ faces. He’d lay back and wait for the world to stop spinning, staring at the stars painted on the ceiling as he caught his breath.</p>
<p>“I’ve made a real mess of things, André,” he whispered. He could hear the lion’s deep, sleepy breaths from across the train car, and focused on that soft sound until sleep claimed him once more.</p>
<hr/>
<p>For their show in Seville, Booker got a promotion: Henri the Ringmaster announced that they would be adding an aerial routine from several years prior and that he and Osmo would be their extra spotters. Old Georg brought him an electric green tunic to wear over his work pants and a pot of glitter to spread across his cheeks, and he started rehearsing with the troupe, dutifully standing watch as the performers soared overhead.</p>
<p>It was jarring, smiling and posing at the conclusion as the crowd went wild, although Booker knew the applause wasn’t for him. It was the sense of accomplishment, a job well done that he now shared with the troupe, a chance to be helpful and make something amazing happen together. He laughed and drank and celebrated with the performers after each show, beaming as the ladies kissed the glitter from his cheeks at the end of night, as the men clapped him on the back as they headed for their bunks.</p>
<p>Still smiling, he stumbled his way to his own corner of the train, which became cozier with every donated shawl and blanket. He passed some of the local roughnecks as he went, men who’d been hired to help with takedown after their final performance, and saw something sparkle in one man’s hand. Pausing, Booker looked again and realized with a shiver that he was holding Elena’s favorite necklace.</p>
<p>Changing course, he approached the men and said in passable Spanish, “Good man. She’ll be so glad you found that.” He extended a hand. “I’ll return it for you, no harm done.”</p>
<p>The men laughed, looking gleefully between their friend and Booker, ready to watch someone get a beating.</p>
<p>“You’re mistaken,” the man said, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “This is mine.”</p>
<p>Booker looked from the necklace to the man and his companions and back again, and sighed.</p>
<p>“Last chance. Don’t make me take it from you.”</p>
<p>Their laughter increased, and the man smiled wider, holding the necklace above Booker’s head.</p>
<p>The smile vanished when Booker swiftly kneed him in the groin and punched him in the throat. The other roughnecks watched in stunned silence as Booker snatched the necklace from their gasping companion.</p>
<p>“Leave now, leave the women alone, and I tell no one what I saw today,” Booker said clearly, eyes darting from face to face. “Henri will still pay you, and we all part ways as friends.” After they all nodded and helped their friend to his feet, Booker made his way back to the train, walking faster than usual in case they changed their minds. Before he returned to his pile of blankets, he tossed the necklace on the floor of the car where the horses slept, where he knew someone would find it in the morning.</p>
<hr/>
<p>To Booker’s surprise, they continued south after Seville instead of heading back to France, for a special performance in Tangier. The excitement was palpable as they crossed over, all of their animals and supplies crammed onto a ferry. Enjoying the fresh salty air and the breeze on his face, it took Booker a moment to realize that Henri was also leaning on the nearby railing in drab day clothes, seemingly lost in thought.</p>
<p>He decided to approach. “I thought <em>Le Cirque </em>only toured in Europe,” Booker said hesitantly, and Henri sighed in response.</p>
<p>“Friday’s performance is very important,” he said finally. “Old friends will be watching, friends who helped <em>Le Cirque </em>when things were… difficult. They requested that we stop in Tangier on our way to Cologne, and I wouldn’t dream of saying no.”</p>
<p>“They loved us in Seville,” Booker said, filing that away for later. “I’m sure your old friends will be pleased.”</p>
<p>“I admire your optimism for a man with a heart so heavy with secrets,” Henri said, giving Booker an inscrutable look. “When you get to be my age, Sebastien, you learn to plan for the worst and hope for the best.”</p>
<p>Booker turned back to watch the coast of Morocco inch closer. “We just have to take things one day at a time.”</p>
<p>He heard Henri sigh again. “That we do.”</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>The atmosphere leading up to Friday’s performance was different than the others. Armed guards watched as they set up the tent and carried in their equipment. Pale men in bespoke suits came forward to shake Henri’s hand, speaking in rapid Russian as they watched the proceedings with dark eyes and sharp smiles. <em>Sharks, </em>Booker thought to himself as he helped Old Georg set up the stands. A tension hummed in the air around them as show time loomed on the horizon.</p>
<p>The performance started like any other: the lights flickered and died, a single spotlight revealing Henri the Ringmaster in the center of the tent, tipping his top hat and welcoming their audience, describing the wonders they were about to witness in a ringing voice. Booker’s tasks had become routine at this point, but he still had to focus on his cues when Henri spread his arms wide and called for the show to begin, when the clowns cackled and tripped their way around the ring, when Elena and her sisters came riding in on the horses, smiling as brightly as their horses’ coats gleamed after Booker had brushed them to perfection.</p>
<p>They were about to start the aerial routine, and Booker was running over to stand on his mark when Henri ran back into the ring and called out, “We will have a brief intermission before the finale,” bowed stiffly, and vanished once more. Unsure what to do, Booker smiled and waved with the rest of the troupe and followed them out to the prep tent.</p>
<p>“Why did we stop?” Katerina asked. “Was there a problem with swings?” Maks shook his head. The performers tried to stay in the moment, stretching and posing, but everyone was nervous and shaken up.</p>
<p>“Go find Henri,” Maks said, frowning at Booker, “and come back and let us know when he’s ready, yes?”</p>
<p>“I’ll find him,” Booker said, and ran back out into the night.</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>They’d set up near the docks, unfolding the tent right after unloading it from the ferry. Booker darted between shipping containers, following the sound of angry Russian voices. He finally spotted Henri standing with the well-dressed men, looking distinctly uncomfortable as they argued with one of the guards.</p>
<p>“I thought you established a perimeter,” a man in a dove gray suit said, his voice deadly calm.</p>
<p>“We did, but someone snuck through,” the guard growled. “We’ve been tracking them-“</p>
<p>“Track them down and make them disappear,” the other man cut in, tugging on his cuffs with a frown. “The shipment leaves in twenty minutes.” Turning to Henri, the man said, “Get your people ready. Ten minutes and we’ll start again.” Henri nodded, his eyes on the ground, and walked back toward the tent.</p>
<p>Booker followed, revealing himself when they were out of sight. “What’s going on?”</p>
<p>Henri startled badly, clutching at his heart. “It’s none of your concern. Go back and get ready-“</p>
<p>“So they bailed you out once and now you’re, what, putting on a show as a diversion?” Henri tried to push past, but Booker stood his ground. “What are they trying to hide?”</p>
<p>Henri was shaking his head. “Everything I do is for <em>Le Cirque Fantastique. </em>It is my life’s work. They are my <em>family. </em>I will do what is necessary to protect what we’ve built, no matter-“</p>
<p>“No matter the cost?” Booker finished, feeling sick.</p>
<p>Henri watched him sadly, looking much older than he had that afternoon on the ferry. “Sebastien… I know what you did in Seville, for Elena’s necklace. You are a good man. But promise me you will stay out of this. Sometimes we do the wrong things for the right reasons. But tomorrow we will head for Cologne, and this will all be a bad dream.”</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>Booker followed Henri back to the main tent, his mind whirling. The audience was getting restless, even as the clowns came back out for a few more gags. They cheered when Katerina’s family returned to the ring, all smiles, and Henri announced the final performance of the night. Booker stood on his mark, watching for the telltale signs of bad posture or an awkward handoff, but the performance went off without a hitch. When they struck their final poses and waved at the cheering crowd, it seemed like everything was back to normal.</p>
<p>Until an explosion echoed from across the docks.</p>
<p>Katerina’s little cousin shrieked and lost her grip on the ladder where she’d been posing, dropping several feet into Osmo’s waiting arms. The crowd started shoving towards the exit, voices growing louder and more concerned as another explosion shook the ground beneath their feet.</p>
<p>“Everyone back to the ferry!” Osmo was saying, setting the girl down and running towards André, who was pacing nervously in his colorful cage.</p>
<p>“I’ll help him with the animals, go wait on the boat,” Booker said firmly, and the troupe ran for the exit with everyone else.</p>
<p>“You have his chain?” Booker asked, and Osmo nodded; together they linked it to André’s collar, murmuring words of encouragement as they coaxed him from the cage. “Get him back to the cargo hold, he’ll stay calm if you’re there, and wait. I’ll get the horses,” Booker said in a rush.</p>
<p>Osmo looked unsure, even as he led André to the exit. “Sebastien-“</p>
<p>“Just go!”</p>
<p>Booker followed him out, turning right as Osmo went left, following the cries of the terrified horses as they tried to tug themselves free.</p>
<p>“It’s okay, girls!” Booker said, skidding to a halt and approaching slowly, grabbing their reins and untying them from the post. “Stay with me now-“</p>
<p>He could see fires burning in the distance, people running left and right, but a few dark shadows caught his eye. Smudges in the distance that were moving towards the chaos instead of away. Standing between them, he brought the horses around the side of the tent and nearly bumped into one of the shadows himself.</p>
<p>“Booker?”</p>
<p>
  <em>“Nile?”</em>
</p>
<p>She blinked at him, eyes bright in the darkness. “What are you <em>wearing</em>?”</p>
<p>“What are you doing here?”</p>
<p>She straightened, focus returning to the mission. “This is a rescue. We’re almost-“</p>
<p>Several dozen women and children ran towards them out of the shadows, babbling in too many languages to make sense of their words. One child hobbled along on crutches, quickly falling behind.</p>
<p>Nile looked between them and asked, “Can I borrow one of your horses?”</p>
<p>Booker groaned and gave the child a leg up, balancing him carefully on the horse’s back. “Just for a minute. They’re not technically mine.”</p>
<p>They headed to the edge of the docks where a boat was apparently waiting, and with elation and dread, Booker saw Andy jump on board and help the others onto the boat.</p>
<p>“Nicky’s here, just waiting for Joe to get back with the documents,” she said briskly, helping the last child aboard and untying the heavy ropes that held the boat to the dock. “Where’d you find a pair of-“</p>
<p>She looked their way and her movements stilled, the grin slipping off her face. Booker stood there, frozen between the two agitated horses, struggling to find the words…</p>
<p>“Are you kidding me?”</p>
<p>Joe came running over, a duffle bag in each hand and a frown on his face. “What is <em>he</em> doing here?”</p>
<p>“What’s taking so long?” Nicky came out onto the deck and froze, taking in the scene before him, relief and regret and confusion dancing across his face. “Booker?” he breathed. “What are you wearing?” His eyes widened as Booker scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing when it came back covered in glitter. “Did you join the circus?”</p>
<p>“Well… it’s ‘a’ circus,” he murmured. This wasn’t how he imagined their reunion would go; it was all a bit overwhelming. “Something to pass the time.”</p>
<p>“Sebastien!” They all whipped around at the sound; Booker turned and guided the horses away from the boat as Osmo and Old Georg came running over.</p>
<p>“My beauties!” Osmo cried, rushing over to comfort the horses.</p>
<p>“Why aren’t you on the ferry?” Booker asked, looking between them.</p>
<p>“We came back for you,” Osmo said firmly. “The others were worried sick. Henri says we’re leaving now, and sending for the tent and equipment in the morning.”</p>
<p>“You came…” Booker’s words faded as Osmo gently took the reins from his hands.</p>
<p>“No one is left behind,” Old Georg rumbled, squeezing Booker’s arm.</p>
<p>Booker nodded, a lump forming in his throat. “Take… take the horses on board. I’m going to check the tent one more time, see if we left anything important, then I’ll join you.”</p>
<p>Osmo led the horses away as Old Georg jogged toward the tent, promising to help with the final sweep. Booker watched them a moment more before turning to find Andy, Nile, Nicky, and Joe watching from the shadow of a nearby shipping container.</p>
<p>They exchanged looks, finally nodding to Booker and heading back to the boat, only Andy staying behind.</p>
<p>“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Booker started, but Andy shook her head.</p>
<p>“Almost no one gets what they deserve,” she said sadly. “We just have to deal with what we <em>do</em> get.”</p>
<p>“I’m glad,” Booker stammered, his throat closing up. He tried again. “I’m glad you’re all right. Just… please don’t forget about me.”</p>
<p>“Oh, Book.” She reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “We could never forget you. And one day, you’ll fight and die by our side once more,” she said with a decisive nod, and his heart leaped. “But first, you needed to remember how to <em>live</em>. And it looks like you’re on the right track.”</p>
<p>He nodded, looking between her and the tent in the distance. “I have to…”</p>
<p>“Go help your friends. Your tour ends in Stockholm, right?” she asked.</p>
<p>He nodded. “I won’t even ask how you knew that.</p>
<p>She grinned. “Maybe we’ll see you there.”</p>
<p>With a final nod, they both turned and ran, Andy back to the ship, Booker to the tent in search of Old Georg, his head clear and his heart light.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Epilogue</p>
<p>~</p>
<p>It was their last night in Stockholm, and everyone in the troupe was on point. Booker hauled robes and cleaned up after the horses, his mind buzzing, determined to avoid looking at the crowd until he entered the ring himself for the finale. He smiled and waved as all of the acrobats came out to thunderous applause, then found his mark, glancing at the audience as the performers climbed into position.</p>
<p>On the back row, Andy sat quietly, clearly fighting back a smile, with Nile on her right, clapping and cheering along with everyone else. Nicky was tossing popcorn in the air for Joe to catch, cheering when a kernel landed in his mouth. Joe beamed at him, crunching the snack in triumph, sitting loose and relaxed at Nicky’s side.</p>
<p>Booker tore his eyes from his friends (his <em>friends</em>) and focused on the performers above him, his smile threatening to split his face in half. If this was to be his last show, he would do his level best, and he looked forward to celebrating with his friends, <em>all </em>of his friends, when it was over.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So I re-watched The Greatest Showman last week...</p>
<p>I just love the otherwordly whimsy of an old-school circus, and had fun writing a story about someone getting whisked away by that world. I know my stories are drifting farther and farther from canon, but it's been a fun ride, and I appreciate anyone who has stuck with me this far : )</p>
<p>Take care out there,<br/>MA</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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